The Answer
by LSMunch
Summary: Fact: Two boys have one week to live. Fact: They know their kidnapper. Question: Will the squad make it in time?
1. Chapter 1

A/N: SVU isn't mine. However, I believe that Joann and the rest of the OCs are mine, because they by definition are original which means they ain't on the show. My latest project, I've got the next two chapters finished so those should be up soon. In the meantime, enjoy.

* * *

A call in the middle of the night. A frantic voice on the other end, half sobbing as she tried to convey exactly what was wrong to the aging detective with sleep mussed hair. When a semblance of a story was coaxed from her, he soothed her by saying he was on his way and not to worry, he'd find her sons. 

The car was cold, and his breath came in clouds as he passed her story along to the captain as he drove. Two squad cars were awaiting him and the senior officer of one gruffly told him that CSU and more back up was on the way. When he reached her apartment, he found her door open and various things strewn around the room. "Joann, it's Detective Munch." He slowly walked in, his hand on his gun and was only slightly relieved to find her clutching a toy car in one hand and holding onto the wall with the other. "Joann, we're going to find them. I need you to tell me exactly what happened. Come on." His voice was low and soft, perhaps because although the situation made his adrenaline run, there was still a part of him that was asleep and wanted to return to that warm bed.

His partner was the first to arrive, then Olivia and then the captain himself, coming in to see what information his oldest detective had garnered from the mother who was by that time wringing her hands, sitting on the couch with a steaming cup of untouched tea before her. There wasn't much information, as they all expected and CSU combed through the apartment, looking for anything that might be of use to the huddled detectives. They were going over the possibilities, conferring about the options and generally comparing theories. They switched every so often, one of them sitting with Joann in futile attempts to soothe her, while the others went about other business. Most of the time, Munch sat with the woman, holding her hand in the absence of a husband and saying softly that her sons would be found.

Joann was a woman they had met during a previous investigation not too long ago and John Munch had caught her case. Her two boys were vaguely aware that their mother had been hurt by somebody, but were much too young to understand the situation completely, a small fact which made the grey haired detective grateful yet sorrowful. Rape was always a crime which was emotionally taxing on the victim, and her family, but this particular case had been especially so. Joann was a single mother, the sole provider for her young boys, and like all mothers under stress to protect and adequately provide for her children. Having been raped by her boss (and Munch always thanked God that it had been a relatively easy case to solve), returning to her job was out of the question. For weeks she remained unemployed, despite the attempts of the boys' grandmother and Munch himself to find her a job.

A job had eventually been found for Joann, and Munch made sure to call in every now and then to make sure everything was all right. It wasn't every case that he invested himself so deeply, but every now and then one rolled around that, in his opinion, warranted greater concern than that which he normally gave. In addition to calling Joann, at the end of every phone call he asked if she had his cell phone number. The extent to which he helped her caused his partner to question him once. Munch had assured Fin that such a question was delving into his personal life (which had earned him a raised eyebrow at his choice of words) and would not be answered. But Fin's question had been answered, something Munch had yet to realize.

She was leaning against his shoulder and light was creeping into the room from the windows. His hand was resting on her back and activity continued around them. "What am I going to do?" Her voice was raspy and weary, causing him to move his hand in what he hoped was a sooting motion over her back.

"You're going to be strong and we're going to find them. I promise."

She didn't respond, and he hadn't expected her to. She could do almost anything now and he would forgive her for it. She could take his gun and point it at him, even shoot him, and he would hold her afterwards. Whether anyone else in the room would treat her that way if that were to happen...

He closed his eyes a moment and forced the thoughts from his mind. The case was going to be hard enough with her involved, and he already knew that Fin and the captain would be all over him, and he didn't need to be thinking of Joann in ways that he never should. This was just about finding her boys... and making sure she didn't completely break in the process.


	2. Chapter 2

All my life, I've been looking for something. God only knows what, all I know is that I've been looking for it. I've never really tried to describe the feeling as I've come to think that no one really cares to listen to my ramblings and ranting, no matter what may be the subject of the day. But I suppose, if someone were there to listen, that it's almost like an ache, like that feeling you get right before you cry. I don't always feel it, just every once in a while, and when it comes along, everything else fades away and doesn't matter. You know what I mean? Just this incredible feeling of needing to find _something._ God only knows what, but something. Something that makes every other thing you've done seem worthwhile because if it hadn't existed, you wouldn't be where you are know. All those things in your past got you here, with this... something. It would justify everything, just this one thing.

I don't like telling people about that feeling. I mean, I know I said I've never explained exactly what it feels like, that ache, but I've mentioned it in passing. Just that general need to find, to discover. Mostly to my ex-wives, who couldn't care less about anything I was feeling. The other times I was probably drunk, ready to cry in my beer after my wives left me, one by one.

To date, I haven't found anyone who feels the same, or who was weak enough to give in and tell me about it. Honestly, I don't blame them. It's not a feeling that one enjoys sharing. Or enjoys in general.

* * *

No fingerprints have been found, not one shred of evidence has been left behind. Joann can think of no enemies, beyond her rapist, but he's behind bars. I'm torn between staying with Joann and waiting to see if a ransom call comes and going out on the street looking for the guy. I decide on the latter, leaving Fin with Joann. While Fin had worked Joann's case with me and knew more about it, I wanted her to feel comfortable, to be with someone she knew. Well, someone she was more familiar with. So Olivia and I drove up to Sing Sing to visit Joe Bernal.

"What do you guys want now?"

"Joann Hontas' two sons were kidnapped this morning. Know anything about that?"

"No."

I sighed and leaned on the table. "Listen Joe. We need to find those boys. You holding some sort of grudge against Joann, you're going to tell us about it. You're going to tell us whether or not you got somebody to kidnap them."

Joe leaned on the table as well. "Listen, detective. I don't know. I'm not holding any sort of grudge, and I certainly didn't hire anyone to take her kids, arright?" He reclined in his chair. "That all?"

Olivia tapped me on the shoulder and from the look on her face I knew we were leaving. I looked at Bernal. "For now. We'll be keeping in touch."

The guard buzzed us out and as soon as we were out of Bernal's hearing range, I asked, "What is it?"

"Joann got a call. Said that the boys have seven days to live."

I stopped and looked at her, before setting off at a brisk pace. Still, she was at my elbow again in an instant. "John, we can't just run off there. We gotta go back to the squad and figure this out."

"Don't you think I know that?" I had whirled on her, causing her to almost collide with me.

"I know you know that. Okay? I just don't want you getting hurt by this one."

"Too late," I bit out and started walking again.

* * *

"Mrs. Ryan, have either of the boys ever come to you with problems?" We were sitting in the principal's office at the boys' school.

"No, never. They might still talk with the school counselor though. When their mother was raped, we set the boys up to talk with Miss Riley, just in case. And there's also Mr. Russell and Mrs. Ludmer, their teachers."

"Where might we find Miss Riley?"

Mrs. Ryan gestures a hand to the right. "She's on the other side of the office. Mr. Russell and Mrs. Ludmer both have lunch in half an hour, if you'd like to speak with them as well."

"Could you have them meet us somewhere private?"

"Of course. You can use Mrs. Hackett's office, she's out sick."

"Thank you." Olivia and I stood to leave, both of us shaking hands with the also standing Mrs. Ryan. We walk across the main office to a door marked "School Counselor." I knocked, and was answered with a "come in." We did so.

"Miss Riley? I'm Detective Munch and this is Detective Benson. We were wondering if you could answer some questions for us."

"Sure, may I ask what about?" She gestures for us to sit down.

"Robert and Zack Hontas were kidnapped sometime last night. Mrs. Ryan told us that the boys had spoken with you after their mother was raped. Do they still speak with you?"

"Robert does every week or so, but I only saw Zack a handful of times."

"Did either of them ever mention feeling threatened by someone?"

"Robert has nightmares where a man dressed all in black comes after his family, but he never mentioned anything immediate. Both boys seem to be handling it well."

"Why did Zack stop coming?"

"I think he didn't want to talk about it. Whereas Robert sees his mother's rapist as just a bad man, Zack better understands what happened." She didn't need to continue for us all to know why he didn't want to talk. It was part of growing up, learning that bad things happen and bad people exist. What was difficult was the coping.

Ten minutes later, we had gleaned as much information as we could from Miss Riley and were waiting in Mrs. Hackett's office for the arrival of Mr. Russell and Mrs. Ludmer. They came in together and from the looks on their faces, I knew that Mrs. Ryan had already informed them as to why we were here. I stood to allow Mrs. Ludmer, an elderly woman (who in actuality was probably about my age), a seat. She gratefully took it and Mr. Russell leaned on the vice principal's desk.

"Do you know who might have done this?" Mrs. Ludmer asks immediately.

"No, ma'am, that's why we came to ask you some questions. You're Zack's teacher, correct?"

"Yes." She looked about to cry. "He was such a nice boy."

"Did he ever mention feeling threatened, or being bullied?"

"No. Even a few months ago, with his mother, he was very brave. Such a strong boy."

"Mr. Russell?"

"Call me Derek, detective. And no, nothing. I had Zack as well. They're both good boys. Zack takes good care of his little brother. They're very close. To think that this has happened to them... and after the ordeal with their mother. They deserve better."

Mrs. Ludmer covered her face with her hand.

Olivia leaned forward, her hand goign to Mrs. Ludmer's arm. "Are you all right?"

She looked up. "Yes, it's just..." She took a shuddering breath. "I just remembered. Last week, I saw Zack after school. When I asked him what he was doing, he said he couldn't find his brother. I helped him look and we eventually found Robert. He was... he was crying in one of the rooms, underneath a teacher's desk."

* * *

Lately, I've felt that ache. Way down deep inside. I imagine it to be resting right beside my heart, or perhaps it resides within my heart. Desperately trying to keep it at bay, work has suddenly become very important. Surprisingly, I have held a perfect record, something that reminds me of Kay Howard and if I close my eyes, I can picture all the names in black underneath my name. It's a good feeling, knowing that every rapist and child molester that has come my way in the past couple months have met that strange lady named Justice. And she has won.

But no matter how many cases I solve, no matter how many perverts rest behind bars, that ache is still there. So I know it isn't work that causes it.

Maybe, if I try hard enough, I'll remember feeling like this before I became a cop. Worth a shot, right? And with my current solve rate, who knows? Maybe I'll get lucky.


	3. Chapter 3

I remember, I guess it must have been a few months after my father's death, wondering what the hell I was supposed to do. Just this complete feeling of helplessness and I was drowning in it. I was thirteen, and though I had had my bar mitzvah and was considered a man, I wasn't and I have yet to meet a thirteen-year old who is a man. My brother was four and didn't understand what had happened. He wasn't even in kindergarten yet. When we got older, I asked him once what he remembered about our father and he had but one memory which he could recall. A summer day not long before our father's death when he came early from work and took us all out for ice cream. I still can't remember that day. Funny, the things that people remember.

But once he got older, when he was in elementary school, I used to walk him to and from school everyday. Pestered with questions the whole way, round trip. I remember once, when he was about seven, he had this absolute fascination with cowboys and we were walking home from school and we came upon this guy picking on this girl that I liked. And the kid punched me. I went down like a rock, but when we walked away, Bernie was jumping all around, excited that I had beat this kid up. He seemed to have completely missed the point that I went down without any fight.

Once he got old enough to realize it, we would have these big arguments because I was treating him more like a son than my kid brother. I never tried to explain it to him. I would rather him be angry with me than with our father.

* * *

I was by her side again. No other calls had come in during the day and I, accompanied by Olivia, had run around half the city. And while I was still pumped to go out some more, I had stopped by her apartment just to make sure she was doing all right. Thinking on it, I realized it was a strange reason to go considering she wouldn't be all right until her boys were sitting beside her. Even then, something would be different, just as something was different even though we caught her rapist and he was currently sitting behind bars. Something always changes when you see the raw evil in the world.

She wasn't crying anymore, but her eyes were red and her hands were shaking. Fin had sat by her side all day, except for the few instances when we had called him. Now he was at the station and Olivia was waiting for me in the car. I had told her to leave it on with the heat, but when I return, I know it will be ice cold. I also told her I wouldn't be long, but I just can't stand to leave Joann by herself for the long night ahead.

Finally, though, I took my arm from around her shoulders. "I have to go now."

She nodded.

"Call me if you need anything, all right? Even just someone to be here. I'll get someone for you. Okay?"

She nodded.

"Joann, we'll find them. I promise."

She squeezed my hand and bowed her head.

I squeezed back. "I promise."

* * *

Not a day went by that I didn't do something for my brother. Some nights, our mother would go out on dates, trying to find a replacement for an irreplaceable man. I would watch Johnny Staccato and he would insist on staying awake until he predictably fell asleep. I'd wait until the last possible moment until waking him up and getting him off to bed. Then my mother would walk in the door, tired and let down again. I never told her we didn't need a new dad. We needed our old one back, and since that wasn't going to happen, we were just going to make do. I guess I should have told her at some point, to save her the endless tramping around at night with some guy whom she didn't really like then and wasn't going to like anytime soon.

There was one time I remember she came home and she was going to go kiss Bernie goodnight, who was probably already asleep again. But halfway there, she sagged against the wall, crying. I watched her from the living room. It's not that I was insensitive, but when you see your mother crying, you kinda lose all feeling in your limbs.

She only rested against that cold wall for a minute, but it was enough. Never again did she leave us at night. And Bernie was forced to go to bed early every night with no late night forays into the world of Johnny Staccato. I guess I've always felt kind of bad about that.


	4. Chapter 4

Did you ever have one of those moments where you looked at your parents and you could say with complete conviction that they were proud? Like they show in the movies. They just have this certain look on their faces and you smile to yourself thinking, yeah, I put that there. I made myself something in their eyes. And even if you hate your parents, just down and out can't stand them, you get that feeling. It's always there when you see that look.

My mom had that look when I graduated from the police academy. Boy, I just about busted out of my uniform, knowing that I had done something truly good and right in her eyes. I felt that finally I was living up to my father's name.

And I've met some whom if told that my father had committed suicide, would say that I wasn't living up to what he was, I was pushing him away. I was forging my own path. No matter what my father did, he was my father. I loved him, I looked up to him. I was going to live up to him.

* * *

It was late. The exact time escaped me, but all I knew was that it was late and that meant we were closer to that deadline we had. The deadline we had to meet, or rather, the deadline we had to beat because if we didn't, we'd have two dead boys and a hopelessly broken mother. So none of went up to the crib.

We had a case once where we had three days to find a girl. That was about two, three years after I came up to New York. Compared to then, we had all the time in the world, but I knew it wasn't. And I didn't know what was happening to those boys, but I was determined to believe the worst. In that way, I could motivate myself when sleep threatened to take over.

"You sure his alibi checked out?" Fin asked me again.

"Well, we never really know, now do we?" I sighed. "Wife said he was home all night."

"And she was awake to keep tabs on him?"

"A couple months ago, she found out he was having an affair with one of the other teachers. She started marking down the mileage on their cars at night and again in the morning, to make sure he didn't go anywhere."

"Smart woman," Elliot said.

I snorted. "Yeah, lot of good it does us."

"So you want it to be the teacher?" Fin retorted.

"No, but if it was we wouldn't have to look anymore, now would we?"

That stopped the conversation and I felt their eyes on me as I leaned back over my files, trying to find something. I ignored it, but the paper slipped out of focus whenever I tried to make something out of nothing. Instead, I pictured Joann sitting alone on her couch, devoid of tears simply because all day had been spent crying them out. Most strongly came a picture of her looking through a photo album, wondering if she'd ever see her kids again.

* * *

My father never gave me much to go on when it came to what he wanted me to do in life. Of course ,there were the obvious, like get married, raise a family and lead a good and honest life. Like he had. Well, up until the end, before he died. He wasn't honest then. But that's besides the point, in a way. He always had this regret that I could never understand. It permeated his happiest hours and he wallowed in it during his most melancholy moments. It seemed as if I would never figure it out.

Then one night I caught him crying downstairs, all alone in the living room. I think I was around eight or nine. I can still picture it, picture him. I had asked what was wrong and he had told me everything. I didn't understand that, just like I didn't understand that regret.

After he died, I figured it out. And that is my regret. That I never knew while my father was alive. Maybe it would have saved him.


	5. Chapter 5

A/N: I just want it to be known that all those who wish to give me "constructive" criticism should do so face to face instead of hiding behind anonymity. Also, that those who do hide behind anonymity only make me laugh, as well as your weak and utterly harmless flames. If they could be called that.

For the rest of you are enjoying this, continue doing so. I only hope that I can meet your expectations for this story.

* * *

Right before I graduated high school... I was a mess. I was scared shitless that when I turned eighteen that August I would be drafted. My buddy and me, we figured out this plan to get conscientious objector status. Write letters to our draft board, all of that. They weren't as harsh then with the draft as they would soon come to be. I got it, but he didn't. Three months later, I was going off to see the world and we was getting ready to step into a jungle. A month after that he came home. In a pine box draped with a flag. I never felt right about that. I should have done something for him, anything, just something. Helped him get to Canada. Something.

I spent forever trying to get my head together, not using the most legal of methods either. In fact, I probably screwed my head up even more. I didn't know what to do and this feeling of guilt remained settled deep in my stomach.

I went to the Wall in Washington, D.C. around the time of the Gulf War. I found his name and I cried, not just for him, but for all the boys my age who had been sent there for no reason and died. That's something I've never told anyone because it's mine. Mine in a sense that it's so close to my heart that I can't possibly share it.

* * *

"Joann, did Zack or Robert tell you anything last week? Did anything odd happen maybe?"

"I went to pick them up on... Monday... no, Tuesday. Zack was waiting with Robbie and Mrs Ludmer was with them. The boys waited out on the steps and Mrs Ludmer told me that she had found Robbie crying alone in one of the classrooms. Do you think..."

"We're not sure. Did Robbie tell you what had happened?"

"N- no. He and Zach didn't say a word the whole way home."

"Have either of the boys ever mentioned having any trouble with someone at school?"

"You don't think..."

"We have to cover everything, and school is the logical place to start seeing as they spend most of their time there," I explained gently.

"I... I don't remember." She buried her face in her hands.

I rubbed her back. "Joann, this is not your fault. It's perfectly normal not to remember. It's all right."

A muffled sob came from her.

"It's all right. Shh. We'll find them. I promise."

In the car fifteen minutes later, I was driving and I caught Olivia looking at me. "Don't say that I should take myself off this case. Don't even think about it."

"Did I say anything?"

I looked at her for a moment, then back at the road. "Fin call yet with anything from the school?"

"Not yet. Look, John-"

"I know, I can't promise her. I'm too close. Yadda, yadda, yadda." I paused. "I have to find them. Maybe it's better that I'm too close."

She put her hand on my shoulder. "All right, John."

Her phone rang. "Thanks," I mouthed.

She nodded. "Benson."

I attempted to pay attention to the road and the conversation, but only succeeded in hearing snippets that gave me no information at all. "So?" I asked as soon as she closed her phone.

"Fin said the gym teacher seemed a little off. Other than that... everyone else was all right. They're running everyone's names and prints through the system just to make sure."

"What's the gym teacher's name?"

"Kyle Brigham."

"Anything specific that Fin mentioned about him?"

"No, just said both he and Elliot got a bad vibe off the guy."

"Good enough for me. They bring him in or what?"

"Cap said to wait."

"He wants Robert and Zack to wait in some place they don't know, scared out of their minds without their mother. And who the hell knows what this pervert is doing to them while we _wait_ to _maybe_ get some more info on a guy that could tell us what he knows now. I see."

"I'll call him."

I had the distinct urge to slam my fist against the horn, but I had always detested those who succumbed to "road rage."

Five minutes later, after a semi-heated discussion with the captain, Olivia closed her phone and told me, "He said take it easy."

That was all I needed to hear.

* * *

"You heard about Robert and Zach Hontas. Two detectives came and asked you some questions earlier today, correct?"

"Yeah, they did."

"Do you know anything about that?"

"All I know is that some bastard took them and for some reason you guys think I did it."

"I don't remember saying that. Do you, Detective Benson?"

"No, I don't think we ever said anything like that."

"So whatever gave you that idea, Mr. Brigham?"

The middle aged gym teacher glanced at both of us, first at me, then to Olivia at the other end of the table.

"Well? We're waiting."

"I told you, I don't know anything."

"They're nice boys, aren't they?" I slid over a picture of each of them. Right in front of him. "Aren't they? You enjoy watching them run around, don't you?"

"You're sick!" He pushed himself away from the table, the back of his hand coming to his mouth.

"Now see, Mr. Brigham, I always defined sick as the bastards who harm children, who rape defenseless women. Wouldn't you agree?" His eyes are glued to the pictures of Robbie and Zack. "You like them, don't you? If only you could spend some time with them... alone. Maybe showing them how to really hit a ball out of the park. A private lesson when no one else is around. You'd like that, wouldn't you?" No answer. "Wouldn't you?" I yelled and slammed my fist on the table.

"No! No, you're sick!" But his eyes are scared.

"We've been through this, Mr Brigham. You're the sick one. Picturing these little boys," I picked up the photos and shoved them in his face, "in their skivvies. Or maybe less. That's sick. I know it and you know it."

"I wouldn't... no... I don't think of them like that." His eyes darted to Olivia. "I don't think like that."

"Mr Brigham, we can get you help. Counseling, whatever it is you need. But you have to tell us where they are."

"I don't know. I didn't take them, I swear."

"We'll get you help if you tell us."

"I don't know! I... that's not..."

"What is it, Kyle? What do you want to tell us?"

"I never touched them but... I've..." He took a shuddering breath. "Jackie Warning. I... I touched him."

I got up without another word and left, slamming the door behind me. Cragen is standing by the glass.

"Good call, John."

"Yeah." Good call when it came to the student population as a whole, but not when it came to the Hontas boys. Not when it came to Joann.

* * *

The first time you fire your weapon at someone is something you never forget. Your gun is always cold after that. Before it was warm because you could fool yourself into believing that it was only there to threaten, never to actually kill. Afterwards... you can't fool yourself anymore and that gun is cold as ice. It's like losing your innocence for a second time, or maybe a third. Seeing your first dead body, and I mean murdered dead body, not what my brother deals with. Real death, that's another one.

The first two times you lose your innocence are interchangeable I suppose. One is when you realize there is evil in the world. The other is the traditional loss of innocence, your virginity. Then, as a police officer, comes two more that are interchangeable. Firing your weapon at a human being and seeing your first stiff.

After that, there's really not much left. There's not much left to take. When you've gone through those four things, there can't possibly be innocence left within your cold heart. There can't possibly be anything left at all.


	6. Chapter 6

A/N: Slightly different layout in this one. Enjoy.

* * *

"Zack, I'm scared."

"It's okay, Robbie."

Robbie started to cry.

"It's okay."

"I want Mom," he wailed.

Zack pressed his face against the bars, straining to see his brother in the darkness. Hopeless. "Don't cry, Robbie, it's going to be all right."

There came no answer from the younger boy and Zack bit his lip to keep from crying himself.

"It's okay, Robbie. Go to sleep."

Eventually the sobs subsided to sniffles and then to light snores. Zack curled up into a ball and prayed to anyone for help. "Please, God, send Detective Munch, send anyone. Please, God, send someone to help us.

"Please, God, please."


	7. Chapter 7

Interrogations are a detective's drugs. Confessions are a detective's highs. As soon as you get a confession, you're on clouds. And a good detective, he knows how to do it right so that it won't get thrown out in court. He knows how to make it stick and that is not just high, that's mind blowing orgasmic high. That is the stuff detectives live for. Me included. Back in Baltimore, you got this room, The Box, with a table, couple chairs. Two windows with blinds that look out into the squad room and a two way in the back, behind which Gee would stand. Jack the heat up, even in summer, and if the guy is some sick pervert and pisses you off, bring his face real close to the heating pipes. Talk about putting them in hot water.

Of course, you always had to make sure no one found out about that. Frank once got a woman to burn herself. Some crazy shit about multiple personality disorder and how he manipulated one of her personalties. Complete crock, but Frank, Lieutenant Russert and the Department got sued. They settled, which predictably pissed Frank off.

Stan and I once had this kid in there and he wasn't cooperating. So we took him for a "test." It was just the copying machine, but boy did we scare the crap outta that kid. Told him all his little friends were gonna get fried. That was one great interview.

* * *

It was getting close to five and the only thing we'd done was lock up Brigham. Again, it was good, but not in the way I wanted it to be. All I really wanted was Joann to have her sons back. No one deserves to lose their children like that, especially not someone who's had their fair share of grief and pain for the year. Maybe for their life.

"Brigham pleaded guilty at his arraignment," Elliot announced, walking into the squad room.

"Well, that's some good news," Olivia said.

"Yeah. Good news a teacher molested his student and that two kids from that same school are still missing. It's great news."

"Munch, c'mon, you gotta admit that it feels good to nail a guy just 'cause we tripped over him."

"That's not the point, Fin."

He looked at me. His eyes said 'I know' and I lowered my own back to my paper. I realized that they did care and that I couldn't push them away, because that would not help Robbie and Zack. It would only hinder our investigation and search for them.

"No prints popped, right?" I asked.

"Everybody's clean, except for Brigham now." Fin had accepted my apology. Good.

I nodded. My phone started ringing and I took it from my pocket. "Hello?" Sobs on the other end announced it was Joann. "I'll be there in ten minutes." The phone snapped shut.

"Joann?" Olivia asked.

"Yeah." I didn't offer up an explanation, partly because Olivia knew why and partly because I just couldn't get the words out.

I made it to Joann's apartment in less than ten minutes, what I regarded as record time. It probably helped that I put on the light just to get people the hell out of my way. There was luckily a spot directly in front of her building and I pulled in, not particularly caring about the cars in front of and behind me. I took the stairs two at a time going up to her floor and when I knocked, she answered immediately. I pulled her to me as soon as I stepped inside. After a couple minutes, she held up a piece of paper with a shaky hand.

"What's this?"

"He... he left it."

"Not the other night."

"No. To- today. It was in their room. The window... was open." A shuddering breath. "What does it mean?"

I looked down at the once folded sheet of paper. There was a jumble of letters, spaces every so often, as if separating words. Like the cryptoquote in the newspaper. "Why don't we sit down? I'm going to call Fin, all right?" I walked with her to the couch and held her hand as I made the call.

"Hey, Fin, he left a note."

"CSU went over that place with a fine toothed comb. How'd they miss it?"

"He came back."

"Fucking bastard."

"You're telling me. Look, I need CSU here again. He came through the window again. I doubt he left anything but..."

"Got it. You want me over there?"

"Couldn't hurt. And we need someone who can decipher codes. The words in the note are all jumbled letters. Doesn't make any sense."

"All right. I'll be there in a few."

"Thanks. Bye." I closed the phone and turned back to Joann. "I need you to tell me exactly what you did."

She wiped her eyes. "I went to the store at the corner. I needed some things and I couldn't... I couldn't stay in here anymore. When I came back, I passed the boys' room. The window was open and when I walked over, it was on Zack's bed. I knew it was from him. I... I knew it."

"Was there anything else with it?"

She shook her head, but it was hesitant.

"Joann, you need to tell me everything."

She was quiet as she rose and left the room. When she came back, she had something in her hand.

"What is it?" I asked softly.

"Zack's necklace. His grandfather gave it to him last year. He wore it during World War II. Zack never takes it off."

I held out my hand and it pooled in my palm.

"Do you think-"

"No. And don't let yourself think that, all right?" I pulled her to me with one arm, still looking at the metal in my other hand. "We'll find them."

Fin knocked on the door then, and I called for him to come in. When he entered, Cragen was in tow behind him. I sat Joann on the couch and walked over to talk with them.

"Whadda we got, John?"

"Joann went to the store on the corner, when she came back, she noticed the window was open in the boys' room. Went in to close the window and saw the note with this." I held up the necklace.

"What's that?" Fin inquired.

"Present from Zack's grandfather. Never takes it off."

"Well, CSU is on the way, so we'll know if he left anything behind. I'm gonna grab up a couple officers for round the clock surveillance. Maybe our guy will risk another visit."

"Cap, we got someone coming to decipher the note?"

"Yeah, but he's gonna go by the station."

"I'll get a uni to run it over," Fin volunteered.

Cragen's phone rang and he stepped away to answer.

"This guy's got a real set of balls on him," Fin commented quietly.

"Yeah. Fricken bastard."

He nodded his head in Joann's direction, who was sitting on the couch, wiping her eyes. "How she doin'?"

"This isn't helping."

"Tell me about it."

"That was Benson. Said Brigham wants to talk," Cragen said, coming back over.

"So, they should go talk to him."

"Well, Brigham says that he's been online, talking with his fellow perverts. He mighta mentioned something about working in a school to one of 'em. Figured you'd wanna talk with him too."

I looked back at Joann. I didn't want to leave her, but at the same time I needed information.

"I'll stay with her," Fin offered in a low voice.

"Thanks."

"Benson'll meet you at Rikers."

"What is it you want to tell us, Brigham?" I asked tiredly. Olivia was sitting beside me and Brigham was opposite. It was nearing six thirty and I couldn't help thinking that it was one hour less we had to find Robbie and Zack.

* * *

"You haven't found the Hontas boys yet?"

"No, we haven't."

He fidgeted a bit in his seat. "I've been online and I've talked and even met with some guys who... who like kids." His fingers beat a relentless pattern on the table. "I've mentioned a couple times that I work in a school."

"You tell your little friends which school?"

"A few, yeah."

"You mention any specific kids?"

He didn't say anything. Olivia leaned forward. "Look, you're already in here. You plead guilty, you're not going anywhere."

"In other words, we know where to find you."

"And we tell every con in this place that you like little boys."

"They'll give you a nice welcoming party. Get a little taste of what you think about doing to those little boys."

His eyes flicked from me to Olivia, suddenly frantic. "I just wanted to come clean. I didn't think..."

"What, you've never heard the stories about prison? They aren't just stories to scare kids into staying on the straight and narrow."

Brigham got up quickly and went to the corner. "Charlie Lyden. Gregg Piechocki. Kirk Eisenberger."

Olivia scribbled the names in her book, "What was the last one?"

"Kirk Eisenberger. He's a doctor. Gregg works in an auto repair shop out in Queens and Charlie has two kids and a wife up in Westchester."

"Are Kirk and Gregg married?" I asked.

"No, but Kirk has a girlfriend. His receptionist. We all met at a bowling alley one Saturday. There was a birthday party two lanes down. He was turning eight."

"So you've told these... friends that you're a gym teacher at PS 114?"

"Yes."

"Have you ever mentioned the Hontas boys to them?"

"Yes."

"Have you ever told anyone else?"

"No."

"We need the websites where you met Kirk, Charlie and Gregg, addresses if you know them and what their handles are on those websites."

Brigham nodded, sat back down and began giving us information.

* * *

When I was in high school, I remember having a crush on a girl and not knowing how the hell to ask her out. Especially in the beginning. No, I'm lying. It was about equal until... well, I guess it's still at that level. I was quite aware that I was a nerd, geek, dork and various other things that never amounted to a football player. I was also aware that girls liked the guys who looked good, not just handsome, but looked good in a sports uniform. That and the fragile ego of a sixteen-year old boy trying to be a man made for some disastrous attempts, and sometimes no attempts at all for fear of rejection. Now, the latter isn't what worries me. Not really.

I suppose I got better at all that though. Considering my track record, I must have gotten better at that first shaky question.

But still, there's that fear of rejection. Not just that they don't like you enough to go out with you. It's rejection by love. All those times, all those women, and never has love fully accepted me.


	8. Chapter 8

A/N: Sorry it took so long for the update! I'm taking two AP tests in a couple weeks, so I'm kind of obsessed with studying at the moment.

* * *

Everything seems to be connected with my father in some way. I've often caught myself wondering if that is good or bad (if one could ever truly define those terms) and how my life would be different if he hadn't committed suicide. Maybe I wouldn't be a police officer. Maybe my brother wouldn't work in a funeral home. Maybe my whole family wouldn't be so fucked up. Who knows? But no matter what it is I refer to in my past, whether from childhood or last week, in some way I'm sure I could connect it to my father. Kind of like the six degrees to Kevin Bacon or whatever the hell that thing is.

My point is that even without him around, he had affected my life in as deep a way as I can think of. I always knew that a person's suicide not only affected them but those around them, I just never realized how much.

There are also times I wonder what would happen if my father had lived and I hadn't become a police officer. What would the lives of those victims and their families be like? What detective would have handled their case? Would they have lived where they had once died?

* * *

I called Elliot in the car and gave him the three names. These guys... Piechocki wasn't too bad, but Lyden had two kids. Two kids he might be molesting. Thank God he wasn't a teacher, but his wife ran a daycare out of their house and he had some job that allowed him to work at home. That meant constant contact with those kids. And Eisenberger was a doctor. He was dating his receptionist who had a seven-year old boy. Gym teacher, doctor, father. People that kids are supposed to be able to trust. What made things worse was that Brigham didn't know what kind of doctor Eisenberger was, just a doctor. He could be a pediatrician for all we knew. 

When I got up to the squad room, Olivia was already there and Cragen had returned from Joann's apartment. By the lack of Fin, I assumed he was still there. My first instinct was to ask how she was holding up under these new circumstances, but I tried my best to shake the thought from my head as there was work to be done.

"We got anything on these guys?" I asked Elliot.

"Only priors they have is a parking ticket or two. Lyden was arrested for aggravated assault, but that was fifteen years ago. He was never brought to court on it either, the other guy dropped the charges."

"What kind of doctor is Eisenberger?"

"Uh..." Elliot glanced down at some notes. "Dermatologist."

"Kids go to the dermatologist, right?" Olivia asked.

"We need to ask for his patient list then. What's his home address?"

Before Elliot could answer, what I assumed to be the cryptographer came out of the room next to Cragen's office. "I got it!"

I turned, as did half the people in the squad room. "What's it say?"

"'Robbie and Zack are very safe. I've made sure they can't escape. Wasn't Kyle so helpful? Really, he doesn't know anything. Good luck,'" he read from a sheet of paper. "It was a simple code. He just substituted one letter for another, very similar to the cryptoquote you find in the newspaper."

"We need to talk to Brigham's pervert friends. Now."

Elliot handed me a Post-It note with Eisenberger's address scrawled on it. "I'll come with you," he volunteered.

"Liv, you wanna take Piechocki or Lyden?"

"Piechocki. I'll swing by Joann's and pick up Fin."

"Rosen!" I shouted over the noise.

A hand rose as he struggled through the throng of detectives and officers. "What's up?"

"Take McElroy and talk to Charlie Lyden." I handed him another Post-It note with an address on it. "We need to know where he was Sunday, if he's acting differently, anything like that. Ask him what he knows about Brigham, too."

"Got it." He disappeared back into the mass of people. Elliot, Olivia and I walked down together, Olivia getting into her own car and going in the opposite direction. I tossed the keys at Elliot and we were off.

I was surprised to find that Eisenberger lived in an apartment not too much larger than mine. I became angry when I realized the sick bastard lived four blocks from me. I could have run into him countless times. Hell, I might have passed him watching the kids playing in the nearby park, thinking, if I even noticed him, that he was simply a father watching his kids play.

"I've never met these boys. Only heard about them on the news. Why?"

"Your name came up in our investigation," Elliot answered while I strove to see through walls in search of Robert and Zack. "May we come in?"

"Sure." He opened the door wider and we stepped inside. "Can I get you something to drink?"

"No, thanks, we're good."

He gestured towards the couch. "Please."

"Dr. Eisenberger, do you know a Kyle Brigham?"

"The name sounds familiar."

"You met in a bowling alley with Brigham and two other men. Gregg Piechocki and Charlie Lyden."

The doctor's jaw clenched and it was a moment before he responded. "I met them, yes."

"And Kyle told you that he worked at PS 114, correct?" Elliot asked, glancing at me while doing so. I wasn't about to apologize for jumping the gun. I was looking for two little boys. Whatever he and the rest of the squad were doing...

"Yes, he's a gym teacher there."

"Do you like little boys, doctor?" I asked, earning a full out glare this time, not only from Elliot but from Eisenberger.

"I'll have you know that I have a girlfriend who has a seven-year old son that I would never even_ think _of harming."

"Dr. Eisenberger, there are many men who have girlfriends or even wives and molest children. The thought that you might be one of those men is not that far fetched. In fact, there are plenty of men who sexually abuse their own children."

He stood up suddenly. "Get out of my home." His finger pointed to the door. "I will not have you coming in here accusing me of... of touching little boys and kidnapping them. If you want to talk to me again, you'll speak with my lawyer first."

Once we were in the hallway, Elliot grabbed my arm and stopped me. "What the hell, John?"

I turned to him. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"We had this guy sitting there answering general questions and then you smack him upside the head by telling him he's met Piechocki and Lyden. And then you ask him if he likes little boys? What the hell happened to taking it slow so they don't pull up the shields?"

"Look, I'm just trying to find Joann's boys. I don't know what the fuck you're doing, but I'm getting information."

"No, you're not! What information did we get from him? Hmm? Nothing. We got jack shit because you're too goddamn close to this case."

"Yeah, I am."

He faltered for a moment. "If you know it, take yourself off."

"Because that's what you do, right?"

His eyes hardened and I knew I had hit a nerve.

"Shove off, Stabler and mind your own fucking business." I walked away. "Let's go talk to the girlfriend."

Patricia Weiss lived two blocks over so I didn't bother stopping at the car. Elliot was somewhere behind me, no doubt still fuming at my comment. He'd catch up. By the time I was knocking on Patricia's door, Elliot was beside me and had calmed himself down enough to conduct an interview with a cool head. We were invited inside. Apparently, Eisenberger hadn't thought that we would go to his girlfriend's apartment after speaking with him.

"My son and I were just watching a movie."

"Oh really? What movie?" I asked the boy, kneeling in front of him.

"Shrek."

"My nephew loves that movie. His name is Ben, what's yours?" I dimly heard Elliot leading Patricia into the kitchen to talk with her.

"Anthony."

"All right, Anthony. I need to ask you some questions. Okay?" He nodded his head. "Do you know Dr. Eisenberger?"

"Yeah, him and my mom are friends."

I smiled. "Yes, they are. Are you ever alone with Dr. Eisenberger?"

"Sometimes. Mom goes out sometimes and he watches me. But I don't need a baby sitter." He crossed his arms, what he imagined to be a tough face in place.

"I need you to answer as truthfully as possible on this one, all right, Anthony?"

"Okay."

"Did he ever touch you?"

"Mommy doesn't always come back before I go to bed and he tucks me in. He kisses my head."

"Does he ever touch you anywhere else? Anyplace that you don't like?"

He didn't say anything but pulled back into the couch.

"It's okay, Anthony. I promise. You can tell me. It'll be a secret."

His eyes were scared and I wondered how many molested children we would find in this case.

"Why don't you point to where he touched you?"

He squeezed his eyes shut. "I don't wanna talk no more."

I reached for his small hand, but he retracted it as soon as I brushed his skin. "Anthony," I whispered, "I promise he can't hurt you anymore. All you have to do is tell me where he touched you."

His eyes opened and he looked at my, wary. "My private parts. And... my butt."

I forced a smile and nodded. "Anywhere else?"

He shook his head and then the tears started to come. That drew his mother and she came in, picking him up and holding him to her as he wrapped his small arms around her and cried into her neck. "You can leave now."

And we left, not saying another word.

* * *

Despite gaining conscientious objector status, I always wondered what I would have done if I hadn't. If I hadn't and I had been drafted and sent to Vietnam. Memories of my father come into play again when I think of this because I always imagine that he would not be happy with me for being a conscientious objector. I can't recall him ever saying much in the way of politics, but there was always this deep sense of pride for his country. There was always a flag flying from our house, something that continued long after he had died. That was one thing my father started that my mother never turned away after he died. 

I wonder if we would have fought, my father and I. I had plenty of friends who fought with their fathers to the point where they needed a place to stay some nights because their fathers had kicked them out.

I wonder if instead of fighting with him, I would have heeded not only his word but his belief and enlisted. I wonder if instead of fighting with him, I would have fought the enemy and died in Vietnam.


	9. Chapter 9

You know, I'm beginning to think that perhaps I have taken the wrong course of action. My goal was to discover a time, before I became a cop, when I felt like I was searching for something. Before I was a cop being the key element of that sentence. Yet, I can't seem to go far enough back. Who I am is so attached to my being a police officer that I don't think I can ever separate the two. I've tried, I really have, but it seems as if I have failed. All these sleepless nights and long hours... you think I would come up with something. Something. But no.

No, I have lived a lifetime as a cop, solved a thousand cases, let a couple thousand more slip through my fingers and that's all I can remember.

No, I have lived a whole other lifetime as an ordinary citizen, walked to school innumerable times, walked home even more and I can't remember a damned thing.

* * *

The ride back to the precinct was quiet. I hadn't told Elliot that Anthony had said Eisenberger touched him, but I think Elliot knew. My anger from earlier had dissipated and I began to regret my actions. I had blown the interview, but pride would not allow me to apologize. In the silence of the car that was punctuated by the now falling rain, I had the feeling that he wouldn't hold it against me, but at the same time, one never really knew.

We walked into the squad room, a defeated look about us, to find that no one else had returned yet. It wasn't surprising considering Rosen and McElroy had to drive up to Westchester and Olivia and Fin had to drive out to Queens. I hoped that Rosen had not encountered what we had upon visiting Patricia Weiss.

I sat down at my desk and began to write down all the information I had gathered from Anthony and Elliot disappeared somewhere. Fifteen minutes later, I knew where he had gone when Cragen called me into his office.

"Elliot tells me that you jumped the gun while interviewing Eisenberger."

I chose not to respond.

"John, I've trusted you with this case, but if your feelings-"

"Captain, my feelings concerning Joann and her family really have nothing to do with this. There are two boys who have one week to live. I'm not about to sit on my ass and wait until their bodies show up somewhere."

"I don't expect you to, but you're just too close to this case. As I said, I've trusted you this far, and I'd like this case to remain yours. But you've got one more chance. Screw up another interview or anything else and I'm assigning the case to Fin. Got it?"

I tried my best to glare at him, but failed as I realized that he had been nothing but understanding. He was giving me a second chance when I didn't really deserve one. "Yes, Captain."

He nodded and I dismissed myself. At the door, I turned around. "You think we can get Huang in here?"

"I'll call."

I shut the door behind me.

Not long after that, Olivia and Fin walked in, also looking tired and battered and I mentally cursed. Wasn't having two boys missing enough? All these other boys were coming out of the woodwork, all molested.

"What did you guys find out?" Olivia asked, sitting at her desk.

Elliot looked up, then leaned back in his chair, a pen between his fingers. "Eisenberger said to talk to his lawyer so we went to the girlfriend, Patricia Weiss, also his receptionist. She gave him an alibi, but she's the only one who can say where he was. Munch talked to the kid."

"Anthony, he's seven-years old. He said that sometimes his mother goes out and Eisenberger watches him. Says that Eisenberger touched him." I didn't need to say where, we all know. "What'd you get?"

"Piechocki's one snide son of a bitch, I'll tell you that," Fin answered, clearly disgusted.

"He fixes one of his neighbor's cars for a small fee. Name is Gabrielle Kolbert. She lives alone with her eleven-year old son, Taylor. Husband was killed on 9/11. Piechocki helped Taylor a lot with his father's death."

I snorted. "A little too much in the wrong way."

"Yeah. But I couldn't get him to say anything. That boy's been abused for years, he's not going to open up. Gonna need Huang on this one."

"I just talked to Cragen and he said he was gonna call him. S'pose he'll be here soon."

Fin glanced at his watch. "At ten o'clock?"

"Those boys are in hell. You wanna leave 'em there a little longer?"

He held up a hand and I turned around to face Olivia and Elliot.

"The neighbor know if Piechocki was around Sunday night?"

"Naw, she can't remember if he was around or not," Fin said.

"At Joann's apartment before, anything turn up in canvassing?" I asked, thinking suddenly of her.

"Nope. No one in the next building saw anyone going up the fire escape, or going down."

"What is this? A blind community living in that building? They didn't see anything Sunday night, they didn't see anything tonight. Fucking morons." I took a deep breath. "CSU?"

"There's no fingerprints, no fibers either. Leads them to think he used latex gloves, maybe leather."

"Smart son of a bitch."

We all fell into silence and I removed my glasses, pressing my hands against my face, trying to ward off the headache I felt beginning. My hands were cold, and the cold always helped my headaches. Eyes closed, I could see snapshots of the boys and various environments in which they could now be hanging onto life. Hour and a half until Wednesday. Ninety-seven and a half hours until Sunday. Four days. We could get the bastard in four days, right? Sure, sure.

"So, what can I help you with?" Huang asked as he walked into the squad room.

I looked up and slipped my glasses back on. "Guy took two boys in the middle of the night. He came back today and left a note with this." I fished Zack's necklace out of my pocket. It should be in an evidence bag, but I left to meet up with Olivia at Rikers without thinking about it. "Wondering what your take on the guy is."

"He's enjoying the power he wields over these boys lives, for starters."

"Oh, and the note was written in a code."

"What time did he come to leave it?"

"Joann went out to the store around five, came back and the window was open in the boys' room and the note and necklace were on Zack's bed."

"How old are the boys?"

"Robbie is seven and Zack, ten."

"What's the family situation like?"

"Joann's a single mom, father left after Robbie was born. Her father died a couple years back. Mother died when she was in high school. Joann was raped by her boss while staying late one night a few months back. More than one person, including Joann and the school counselor, has said that the boys seemed to have handled that well. No abnormal behavior."

"And the boss?"

"He's in jail. But he claims he doesn't have anything to do with the boys."

"I don't think he did it," Fin added. "Seemed to be just a scum bag who wanted some ass and chose Joann. Relatively vulnerable woman tryin' to support her kids, had to stay late for some overtime so he figured why not? Don't think he's got the balls to kidnap a couple kids and hold them for a week. Or get someone else to do it."

Huang nodded. "Like I said, he enjoys the fact that he can kill them at any moment and you wouldn't know. He's a smart man and thinks that he can outplay you. Hence the note written in code. He wants to see you squirm."

"So we lookin' for someone doing a menial job or..."

"It could be either one. Most likely a menial worker, yes. And the confidence... he came back in late afternoon, people coming home from work around that time, kids home from school, he risked it. That suggests he's done this before. Maybe here, maybe somewhere else, but it's not his first time. And chances are, those boys didn't make it either."

* * *

Or maybe the answer lies in Baltimore. Maybe there I would find whatever it is I'm looking for. Lord knows I'm not finding it here. I've been through so many things already and I can't think of anything else. Nothing monumental, nothing truly memorable. Is that a bad thing? I can't think of anything more. That seems wrong to me. Maybe I'm not trying hard enough. Maybe my winning streak (God, I miss Kay and all those guys) doesn't extend to my personal life. Only applies to cases that come across my desk.

It's going to be Wednesday in an hour. That's the third day of seven. That's the third day I'll have been trying to remember. Trying to find that thing.

And I'm beginning to think that I have seven days not only to find those boys, but to find myself.


	10. Chapter 10

A/N: I know it's been a while, but school and real life took over for a couple months. But I'm back! And so is The Answer. So, enjoy the latest chapter and hopefully I'll have the next one up soon.

* * *

I've thought about my father a lot lately, all my life really. It may sound like I've never moved on, but I have, I promise you that. But I mean... you always think about the ones you've loved and lost. Hell, I still think about my first partner, working a beat down in the Southwestern district of Baltimore. He was killed on the job, and every time I hear about another cop being gunned down, he comes to mind, along with this one incident back in Baltimore where me, Kay Howard, Beau Felton and good ole Stan Bolander walked into an ambush and I was the only one to walk away from it. Granted, they're still alive, but it was a close call, especially for Stan and Kay. God, was it a close call.

Anyway, I think about my dad a lot. There's so many things... I think that if he'd lived until some ripe old age, I wouldn't think of him as often, at least not these thoughts. It's just... there was so much we never did. So much that he wasn't around for. I can only imagine what Bernie must feel like. He was only four, he never even had a chance.

Well, I think that all these thoughts about my father are the closest I'm ever gonna get to remembering that feeling of needing to discover. But then again...

* * *

Rosen and McElroy came back about an hour after Huang left, both tired and both wearing the same expression that Olivia and Fin had, and probably that Elliot and I had worn upon returning to the squad. After reporting, Rosen remarked, "We're gonna have to call Chappaqua PD." 

No one said anything.

It had been Wednesday for about an hour when Cragen told us to go home, or at least bunk up in the crib. There wasn't anything we could do. No evidence to work with and it would not be considerate to wake people up at this hour. Elliot, Olivia and McElroy went home. Fin didn't feel like driving out to his apartment and Rosen... I don't know why he stuck around. Myself, well, it was Joann.

So us three tramped up to the crib and picked ourselves a bunk each and fell into them. I closed my eyes, but I only saw Robbie and Zack. So I stared at the ceiling until I could hear Fin gently snoring and believed Rosen to have fallen asleep as well, before rising to go out to the roof.

Leaning on the edge, I looked out to the city, trying to figure it all out in my head. As suspects, we had Charlie Lyden, Gregg Piechocki, Kirk Eisenberger. A father, an auto mechanic, a dermatologist. Huang said most likely menial worker. That fit Piechocki. However, all three molested children, so if Huang was wrong, it could be any one of them. Of the teachers at school, only Kyle Brigham had tripped any alarms, but he couldn't have done it, having been in custody when the note was left. Robbie's teacher Derek Russell didn't have any priors and everyone seemed to like him, not that it really meant anything. But at the moment, he didn't fall into the suspect category. And Joann was positive it couldn't have been any of the neighbors, nor the boys' father. He had been out of the picture too long to matter much.

As evidence we had next to nothing. A note, Zack's necklace from his grandfather, one phone call to the house. Although, the note did say something. "Wasn't Kyle so helpful? Really, he doesn't know anything." Our guy knew Brigham, which brought me back to the school. No one of significance there. Then someone online? Brigham's handle on most sites was _coachkyle_, in which he obviously used his first name. Maybe he hadn't told us everything when we saw him earlier that night.

I glanced at my watch. Fin wouldn't be particularly happy if I woke him, and the guys down at Rikers wouldn't be too happy having to get Brigham once more from his cell. But this was important. This was two boys only God knows where with some pervert.

Before I reached the door however, it swung out and Fin walked out, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. "Hey, I was looking all over for you."

"C'mon."

"Where we goin'?"

"Rikers. I'll explain in the car."

He didn't complain as I practically pushed him downstairs all the way to the car, grabbing my coat and keys on the way.

* * *

Brigham, too, was rubbing the sleep from his eyes when a couple of guards brought him into the room. "Whaddaya want?" 

"Joann Hontas received a note yesterday. You were mentioned in it."

"So?"

Fin jumped in. "So, that means you know the son of a bitch."

Suddenly wide awake, Brigham looked at us. "But I told you those guys' names. I don't have anything to do with it."

"Oh, we know you don't, 'cause you were in here when that note was left."

"But we think you didn't come clean with us."

"I did. I swear I did."

"Save it. You're gonna tell us the names of anyone you ever met in person, whether you know their real names or not."

He looked at the both of us. "They were the only ones I ever met. I swear."

"Look, you're already in here, you confessed and you pleaded guilty at your arraignment. You've chosen to represent yourself, which I believe is to make sure you really hang yourself."

He didn't say anything.

"Did your mother ever tell you to stay away from little kids? I bet she knows what you are. Mothers always know. You were momma's little boy, weren't you? And now she's not too happy with what her little boy turned out to be. Isn't that why you're punishing yourself? Hmm?"

Brigham looked shaken. I continued.

"Momma's little boy... she says she still loves you, doesn't she? She says she doesn't care about what you are inside, but in her head, in her heart, she knows she's got nothing but a sick little boy who doesn't even have the balls to stand up to himself. Isn't that right?"

Brigham seemed on the verge of tears.

"Come on, Kyle. Stand up. Tell us who else you've met with. Tell us who knows you. Show your momma that you aren't as sick as she thinks. Come clean with us and we'll tell her that you were nothing but helpful, that you saved two little boys. Come on, Kyle."

His bottom lip was quivering and he shook his head. "I- I don't know anyone else." He took a shuddering breath. "I swear. I didn't meet anyone else. I- I'm sorry."

I rose from my seat. "Your mother will be, too." With that, I walked to the door and buzzed for a guard to let me out, leaving Fin seated with Brigham. I didn't hear anything else from them as I walked through various gates and eventually signed myself out and received my gun, which I deftly secured in its holster. I went outside and sat in the car and texted Fin that I was waiting for him there.

If Brigham was telling the truth, who else could know about his predilection for young boys? Back to the three men he had previously named. I had only met with Eisenberger, and as such could not accurately judge whether or not the others had the gall to kidnap two young boys. However, all three men seemed to have a ready supply of children to keep them sated. That small fact pointed to someone else yet again, but the problem was, who the hell was that someone else? We had encountered no others deserving of the suspect label. Then again, perhaps one of the three had lost interest in their young "friend" and had set their sights on the Hontas boys. From what I had seen of Eisenberger, he might have taken them, and he seemed somewhat cocky. At least cocky enough to give the impression that he might risk leaving a note in broad daylight.

I doubted very much whether Lyden would even consider taking two boys, considering that he had a ready supply of little boys and girls compliments of his wife's daycare service and his own children. Piechocki again seemed the most likely, seeing as his "companion" was getting older. Also, he fit Huang's profile of having a menial job. Auto mechanic wasn't as bad as, say, a janitor, but still. It wasn't like he had his own garage. He worked for some run down garage not too far from his house. And he had seen the death of his neighbor's husband as the perfect opportunity to work his way in and get to her son. That required some sort of gall.

Fin was approaching, and as he got in the car, I asked, "You get anything?"

He shook his head. "Said he only met Eisenberger, Lyden and Piechocki. Kept saying that was all he knew."

I nodded, and didn't say anything for a moment as I pulled out of the parking space. "What'd you think of Piechocki?"

Fin shrugged. "Sick sumbitch. He's been molesting the neighbor's son for five years."

"I was thinking. Whoever did this has to know and speak with Kyle on a regular basis, know that we were talking to him. Now, he seems to be pretty good friends with Piechocki and the other two. I don't know what Rosen and McElroy thought of Lyden, but I don't think he would nab a couple boys, what with his wife running a daycare in their house, he's got a good amount of kids to pick from. Eisenberger sort of fits the profile, but he's molesting his receptionist's son. Piechocki on the other hand-"

"Taylor Kolbert is eleven. You think he might be getting tired of him?"

"Exactly. Then Brigham tells him about the Hontas boys, he knows where Brigham works and just follows the boys home for a while. Watches them, knows which apartment is theirs."

"Then one day, he takes 'em."

"If we could get Taylor Kolbert to talk with us, we'd know if Piechocki's been around lately."

"Problem is, he won't. He's been abused for years, he ain't just gonna open up."

"We get Huang then, somebody. Meanwhile, we'll check the school, see if anyone's been hanging around lately, someone that shouldn't be. Ask the neighbors."

Fin nods and then checks his watch. "Four thirty. You wanna call Cragen and the rest?"

"By the time we get back, it'll be five... Yeah, I think that'd be best. Get the ball rolling nice and early." And once it does, maybe I can slip away to check on Joann.

* * *

The reason I think my father might be the link to finding out if I've ever had this feeling before becoming a cop is because once he was gone, I had to take care of Mom and Bernie. I was thirteen and the man of the house. If there was ever a time I felt an ache of any sort, that would be it. Sometime on the walk to school with Bernie. Doing some chore or other around the house. Staying up late, waiting for my mother to come home and watching Bernie. Getting up early to deliver papers because that was the only job I could get to help out my mother. Somewhere along the line there, I had to have felt it. I mean, one thing I know is that teenagers just want to get away, and I was no exception. Maybe I thought that finding that... that _something_ would make everything better at home. 

At least, that's what I think. I could be wrong. I could have just been thinking about what job I was going to get once I left the house. Or if I would leave. Sticking around would have helped with Bernie, seeing all the school he still had to go through.

God, if I could only remember something specific. Wait. Maybe that was it.


	11. Chapter 11

God. There is a force to be reckoned with, if indeed he exists at all. I don't know why I haven't thought of this earlier. What with Him being such a large part of my mother's life, and my brother's and maybe even my father's. He was a large part of mine as well, up until my father died. I was young, but not young enough to buy the crap about God wanting my father in His house now. I thought that was selfish of God. Not only did I need him, but so did my mother and brother. And yet, God had taken him from us. God had been selfish. That had been all I saw of God after that, and I don't know if I ever forgave him.

But with this job... there are too many things that happen. You have to believe that at least there's a heaven and a hell. One for the victims, the other for the perps.

Then again, it's hard to think that there could be a God if he lets such atrocities happen. Where is the merciful God we learned of as children. Where?

* * *

Joann was sitting beside me on her couch. We both had a cup of tea in front of us. Her hand was warm in mine. She hadn't cried today, and I wondered if it was because she simply had no tears left. She said she couldn't sleep though, and I knew she hadn't really slept all week. How could anyone sleep when they're children were missing?

"We're getting somewhere," I had told her, but her only response was to nod. I was afraid she was losing hope.

"Listen, Joann, if I thought there wasn't a chance for them, I'd tell you."

"Would you?" Her eyes were hard and sad. "Would you really?"

I didn't know what to say.

"You wouldn't. You wouldn't tell me that." I expected her to cry, but there weren't even tears in her eyes. I wanted nothing more to look away, almost ashamed of what I had said, but that look... it held me and I couldn't move. "You wouldn't tell me that," she said again.

"I would," I replied weakly.

She shook her head and we both knew that she was right. I just didn't want to believe it.

"John, do you think my boys are alive?"

Those eyes... "Yes, I do."

"Don't lie to me. I want you to tell me what you tell Fin. Do you think they're alive?"

I blinked. "Th-" My voice cracked. "There's a chance that they're not."

"How much of a chance?"

I shook my head. "Slim. He said a week."

"He already took my boys! What's to say he's not lying?"

She had a point.

"Tell me, John. Do you think they're alive?"

I swallowed. I felt her hand squeezing mine. I thought of her boys. I thought of the perverts we had already met in this case. I thought about her. "Despite the chance that they might not be, I think they are alive."

Her hand relinquished its grip on mine and her eyes slipped down. We remained like this for a moment and then, quietly, I heard her say, "I wish they were dead."

* * *

Four hours had passed since my conversation with Fin on the way back from Rikers. Huang had been called at home and he waited in the squad room, looking over details of the case while Olivia and Fin brought the Kolberts to the station. Elliot and McElroy had gone to the school, armed with pictures of Eisenberger, Piechocki and Lyden, to find out if anyone had been hanging around lately who shouldn't be. I pulled Rosen to go grab some decent coffee with me, and ask him his opinion of Lyden. Over a much needed and appreciated breakfast, he told me as I had suspected. Lyden was the least likely of our three suspects for the same reasons I had thought of earlier that morning.

When we returned to the precinct, Huang was in the room adjacent to Cragen's office talking with Taylor and his mother was wringing her hands in Cragen's office, who was trying to keep her calm. He had no doubt told her that Piechocki's name had come up in an investigation and that we just needed to know if Taylor had seen anything or knew anything. Gabrielle Kolbert had no doubt countered with the inevitable, "What sort of investigation?" at which point Cragen asked if she wanted something to drink and kindly steered her away from those sorts of questions, and more importantly, the answers to those questions.

Somewhere along the line, my phone rang and I picked it up to hear Elliot's voice on the other end.

"Hey, the school says they haven't seen anyone. We asked around, and the crossing guard remembers seeing Piechocki and Eisenberger hanging around. Different days though."

"How long ago?"

"'Bout a month. Said she hasn't seen 'em since."

I ran a hand through my hair, sighing. "Well, what about the route the boys take home? Someone there mighta seen Piechocki or Eisenberger following them or hanging around. Same with around their apartment."

"We checked, nothin' doin'."

"By the apartment?"

"We're headed there now."

"I'll take Olivia to go visit Piechocki. Fin and Rosen can go talk to Eisenberger."

"All right. See you back at the squad."

"See ya." I closed my phone and put it in my pocket.

"We goin' back out to Queens?" Olivia asked, having walked in around the middle of the conversation.

I grabbed my coat. "Yeah. Elliot said that the crossing guard saw Piechocki and Eisenberger. You know where Fin is? Or Rosen?"

"I'm right here," Rosen piped up.

I turned around to see him coming down the stairs. "You and Fin need to go see Eisenberger. Elliot said the crossing guard saw him and Piechocki hanging around the school."

"Sure thing." He went back up the stairs.

"Let's go." I tossed Olivia the keys. "You drive."

* * *

"How's Joann?" she asked, inevitably, as she drove.

"As well as can be expected."

She glanced at me. "You sure?"

I laughed, a hollow laugh that sounded false and full of pain even to my own ears. "Yeah, sure I'm sure."

"When you came back, you didn't look too hot."

I shrugged. "It's not easy talking to a woman who doesn't know where her children are."

She was quiet for a moment and I fooled myself, for just that moment, into thinking she had dropped it. "What happened?" Quietly spoken, it dropped on my shoulders like a ton of bricks.

Suddenly angry, I shook my head. "Nothing worth mention," I bit out.

Another moment. "How are you doing?"

Another shrug, half hearted and heavy. "Didn't sleep last night. You missed the fun of going back to Rikers at two in the morning."

"Fin mentioned."

"Yeah."

"You know, if you went up to the crib for a while, no one would think less of you."

I snorted. "I would."

And then she was back to Joann and I felt a shiver run down my back as she asked, "You sure everything's all right?"

This time she had me and for a moment, I couldn't say anything. Joann's words had hung about me since she said them and no matter what I did to forget them, they clung to me. "She asked me if I thought they were alive." I stared at the dashboard. "I told her that I did." And then my throat closed up and I forced out in something barely above a whisper, "She said she wished they weren't."

Luckily, we were at a red light and she turned sharply to look at me. "Don't you think she should talk to Huang?"

I was surprised that she didn't understand. She, of all people, I thought would understand. "It's not that, it's..." I looked out the window, her gaze not being quite as captivating as Joann's had been earlier this morning. "They're being tortured." It came out choked and I realized I was on the verge of tears. Tears Joann hadn't been able to cry. "She would rather them have been killed than know that they'll have to live with this week for the rest of their lives."

* * *

Soon we were parking in front of the repair shop where Piechocki worked. I stepped from the car and spotted him immediately; he was coming out into the garage from what I assumed to be the office. "Mr. Piechocki," I called. "A word, if I may."

He stopped where he was and for a second I thought he was going to run, but he allowed us to approach. "Yeah, what is it you want now?"

"Just to talk," I said, keeping my voice neutral.

"Bull shit."

"Tsk, tsk. Now if you're going to talk like that around a lady, we're gonna have to take you to the station."

"You can't do shit to me. I haven't done anything."

"Ah, now that's where you're wrong. Detective Benson, would you like to tell him, or should I?"

She smiled at me before turning to Piechocki. "We showed your picture around PS 114. People have seen you hanging around."

"Now an upstanding citizen like you wouldn't be preying on innocent school children, would you?"

"Hey, I ain't no perv." He pointed the wrench in his hand at me.

I noticed Olivia's hand go to her gun out of the corner of my eye. "Hey now, Gregg. Why don't you put the wrench down."

A twisted smile came to his face and I instantly knew that our talk had turned sour and that we didn't have much time left, or any at all. "Or what?" he taunted.

The smile was gone from my face, as well as from Olivia's. "Isn't any reason to do something stupid."

"Stop bothering me."

"Can't do that, Gregg. All you have to do is answer some questions for us, and we'll leave."

"Well, ask 'em then."

"Why were you hanging around an elementary school in Manhattan?" Olivia asked.

"My nephew goes to school there. My sister asked me to pick him up for her."

"What's your sister's name?" I asked.

"Evelyn Herr."

I nodded. "You pick up your nephew a lot?"

"No, only when she can't get home in time."

"Have you ever seen these two boys?" I fished the pictures of Robbie and Zack out of my pocket and held them up.

"No," Piechocki said quickly.

"When was the last time you picked up your nephew?"

"I don't know. 'Bout a month ago, maybe."

"Thank you for your time."

Olivia's hand remained on her gun as we walked away. "We need a detail on this guy," I remarked to her once we were back in the car and Piechocki was out of sight.

"Yeah, I thought he was gonna throw that thing at you."

"It's my charming personality," I joked, smiling once more.

She shook her head, laughing.

* * *

Maybe that's it. Maybe what I'm looking for is... is God. I admit, I don't really remember "looking" for him before, when I was a kid or anything, but maybe that's it. Maybe I know, as a cop, that I need something to look to for guidance, seeing the crap I do. This could be it. People look for Him all the time, right? Just because I don't remember it before doesn't mean this isn't it.

But... could it really be this simple?

Could it really just be... God?


	12. Chapter 12

No, it isn't God. It isn't God or any other "higher power." I think I'm disappointed, but I can't be sure. Sounds strange, I know. How could I not know if I feel disappointed or not? That's like this one time, back when I had just gotten out of high school. I took a trip with a bunch of friends to hang around Washington, DC around the time of some big protest against the Vietnam War. It was mostly a bunch of teenagers and college kids, stereotypical stuff. I was walking around one day by myself, after the protest was over. I was high at the time, both from drugs and the political high mindedness of it all. I don't recall why I was by myself, but I was and as I was walking, I saw this guy in his Army dress uniform. He looked... I don't know how to describe it... lost? Betrayed? I couldn't put my finger on it then, and I still can't, all these years later.

Anyway, we shared a look and I was just overcome with a surge of emotions. I didn't know what to feel. I remember the word ashamed being forefront in my mind. Here I was, having a time out of protests, and he's back from Nam with shit I can't even dream up in his head.

And I got this feeling that maybe what I was doing was wrong. Not the "bring the troops home" stuff, but the way I was going about it. These guys didn't need some stuck up romantic kid (for that was what I knew myself to be at that moment) preaching about the horrors of war. All he needed was a world he could count on once he got home.

And it wasn't there.

* * *

Olivia and I walked into the squad room and I noted that Fin and Rosen were still out. "What'd you get?" I asked Elliot.

"No one around the Hontas apartment remembers seeing Eisenberger or Piechocki."

"Not that that's a surprise," McElroy said bitterly.

"We didn't do much better," I responded.

"What'd you guys get from Piechocki?" Elliot asked.

"Not much. He's pissed that we keep talking to him because he hasn't done anything, according to him. Thought he was going to throw a wrench at Munch at one point."

I looked at Olivia over the top of my glasses as she sat down, then turned back to Elliot and McElroy. "He said the reason he was at PS 114 was to pick up his nephew."

"Does he have one?" McElroy asked.

I sighed. "Yes, one Matthew Herr, son of his sister Evelyn Herr, is currently enrolled as a kindergartner."

"He still could have set his sights on the Hontas boys."

"That's little consolation, dear Elliot."

He shrugged, leaning back in his chair.

At that point, Cragen came out of his office. Olivia told him what we had found, and I added at the end that I would like to keep a watch on Piechocki.

"You don't think he'd go for his nephew instead?" Cragen asked.

"I don't know, he might. If nothing else it will rule him out."

"I'll call the nearest precinct, get a detail on him."

"Thanks, Cap." He turned to go back into his office, but then Fin and Rosen came in.

"Guess what Eisenberger rents?" he asked.

"A storage unit," Rosen answered.

"Yeah, so?" came from McElroy, ever the dense one. Even Elliot had points on him, and maybe even Cassidy.

"So, he lives in Manhattan in an apartment. Where's he gonna keep a coupla kids with no one findin' 'em?" Fin elaborated.

A look passes over McElroy's face that suggests he has had an epiphany. "I gotcha. He can keep 'em in there."

Shaking my head at him, I asked Fin, "How'd you find this out?"

"When we were waiting for him at his office, I was talking to the receptionist-"

"Patricia Weiss?"

"Naw, Leslie Warycz," Fin said before Rosen continued.

"I noticed a bill from a P&W Storage, address in Jersey. When I asked her about it, she said it was her first day, hadn't a clue about it. I have a feeling that it might be her last, what with a coupla cops wanting to talk to her new boss."

McElroy laughed. We ignored him. You guys didn't check it out, did you?" I asked, recognizing the urgency in my own voice.

"No, thought we'd come back to the squad first and see what everyone else had gotten."

I turned to Cragen.

"Go. McElroy, Rosen, you gather up some uniforms. Lights and sirens, detectives."

* * *

We pulled up to the office of the storage lot, and I went in with Fin. "Do you have a unit being rented to a Kirk Eisenberger?"

"Who are you?"

"New York's finest," I said and held up my badge, as did Fin.

"Give me a minute." He turned to the computer and typed in the name. "Yes, we do."

"Which unit?"

"47, Row D."

"Thank you." We left the man in his office looking confused and slightly worried. "Row D," I shouted to the assembled detectives and uniformed officers. "Number 47. There might be two young boys in there. I don't want them getting more scared than they already are. Elliot, Olivia, McElroy, I want you to take two uniforms around the back and come up from the other end of Row D." They quickly chose two uniforms and Fin, Rosen and the remaining two uniforms were left along with me. "We'll go straight down."

We moved in, the uniforms had their guns drawn all the way, and Fin and I drew ours once we hit 41. We stopped at 43 and, nodding to Elliot, we went the last few feet on either side. I waved for everyone to be quiet, and listened at the door. I didn't hear anything, but motioned for the uni with the bolt cutters anyway. He rushed forward and the chain fell with a clank. Sliding the door up, I expected two boys, but was instead met with piles of boxes.

"Son of a bitch!" I yelled and kicked the nearest one. All this for nothing. They were still out there. Whatever bastard that had taken them was still torturing them. I stalked back to the office, scaring the man from earlier half to death. "Has he been here recently?"

"Who?" He was clearly agitated and upset at my sudden entrance, and probably my anger.

"Eisenberger, you dim wit."

"Y- yes."

"Did he have anything with him?"

"N- no. Nothing."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, quite." He was regaining himself slowly.

"Can he get in at night?"

"Sure. Anyone with a storage unit can get in."

I sighed, and looked out the window where I saw Fin and Rosen waiting and already two uniforms climbing back into their RMP. "How many units to you rent to people in Manhattan?"

"I don't know."

"Find out. I want names, too." I walked outside, but stood away from Fin, Rosen and now the rest of the detectives and other uniforms. I looked around. It was an ideal location. P&W Storage was in the suburbs, and set back from most of the nearby houses. There was a large fence all around, and the front gate had a lock which must have been controlled by a master key, a copy of which all the unit owners must have had. The office was right past the entrance and there was some parking available up against the front fence. There were ten rows, and between each a lane which was approximately a car and a half wide. The rows of units themselves were quite wide, at least twenty feet, and about fifteen feet high. There were units on both sides of the buildings, which accounted for the width. The rows were relatively long, housing at least 30 units, making the rows around 300 feet long in total.

"Detective," called out the man tentatively from the door to the office. "I have a list for you."

I walked over, suddenly tired, but still frustrated and took a small packet of papers from him. "How many units do you have here?"

"Just under six hundred."

"Are all of them being rented?"

"Just about. Are you looking for something?"

His question surprised me and I looked down at the rather short man. For a moment, I didn't say anything, and then, "Maybe, yes."

He nodded and went back into the office. I waved Fin and the others over. I passed one sheet out to each detective, then realized that there was enough to go around a second time, leaving myself and Fin with three sheets each. "This is a list of those who rent units and live in Manhattan. I thought it would be worth a shot, in case anyone else pops up in our investigation."

"Doubt it'll turn up anything," McElroy muttered.

I shrugged. "Neither do I, Bruce, but it can't hurt."

We walked back to the cars, but no one went anywhere at first. Fin and I stood and spread our sheets on the hood of the car, reading them over. Elliot and Olivia sat in their car to read them and Rosen stood outside while McElroy sat in the car, door open and feet out. I seemed to have last names starting with A, B, M, R and S. I went through the first two pages quickly enough, no names or addresses popping out at me. On the third page, however, I had a surprise.

"Derek Russell?"

Fin looked up. "Who'd you find?"

"Derek Russell."

"The teacher?"

"Yeah, looks like. Hey, Liv," I called out, then realized she had her doors closed. I walked over to her car, and she looked up and got out.

"What do ya got?"

"Derek Russell, Robbie's teacher, you remember where he lives?"

"Vaguely, yeah. Why?"

"Is this it?" I showed her the paper, my finger underneath his entry.

"Yeah, that's it."

I looked at the information regarding his storage unit. Row C, unit 60. "We need to get in there."

"John, we don't have a warrant, or probable cause for one either," she said reasonably.

"Then we need to get some, quick." I jogged back to my car, "Fin get in. We're going back to the house."

He got in and started it up, and three cars peeled out of P&W Storage headed for New York City.

* * *

That guy down in DC made me think hard enough about what I was doing that I wound up catching a ride home from someone. A month or so later found me back in Washington with my "hippie" friends, smoking pot and protesting the war. It was like he changed me so drastically with just that look. He couldn't have. I was an impressionable teenager who thought he knew the all the world's problems and how to solve them, and a good number of those solutions included drugs somewhere along the way. That was probably due to the fact that I came up with those solutions while on the clouds.

But that soldier left me with something I don't think I've shaken yet. Sometimes, I think about him and I can see that look clear as day. I bet if I were to tell this story to someone, they would ask about what his eyes looked like, but the truth is, I only saw his face. I imagine his eyes held some sort of grief, or it could have been anger, or maybe they were just blank, I couldn't tell you.

I can say that I hope to meet him again, so that I can tell him that I've tried to make this world a good place to come home to.


End file.
